


Merry Christmas (the joke's on you)

by yuletide_archivist



Category: The Office (US) RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-24
Updated: 2007-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-25 06:54:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1637612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her divorce is not his fault. (Jenna/John)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merry Christmas (the joke's on you)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for danceprincess20

 

 

Her divorce is not his fault.

John knows this, but it doesn't mean he still doesn't feel a little bit guilty every time he shows up at her place and sees the lingering hints of James in things as obvious as the stray photo here and there that she hasn't gotten around to putting away, as subtle as the color of her sofa (too dark; she never would have chosen it). 

He feels a lot guilty when he fucks Jenna in the bed she used to share with her husband, because even though the divorce isn't his fault, he's reaping the rewards.

*

The gold dress she wore to the premier is draped over the chair in her bedroom. Jenna, with her pale golden skin and her red, kiss swollen lips, is draped across her bed.

John twists the two fingers he has inside her and applies a little more pressure to her clit with the flat of his tongue.

He loves the sound of her laughter, but this sound, the breathy exhalation of a private moan, this is the sound he loves the most.

*

She takes a short break from promoting her film and flies home to St. Louis for Christmas. John goes to his place in New York because he's always loved the city during the holidays and he needs to be surrounded by the crowds of people who mostly don't give a shit about who he is. 

It's fucking cold and he stops at a store to pick up a warmer coat to get him through until he has to fly back to L.A. There are fewer people doing last minute shopping than he expected and it's a quick thing to grab a coat and a sock cap. On the way to the register he sees a screen printed t-shirt that he knows Jenna would love but he doesn't pick it up. 

He isn't sure how the hell to define what they're doing, because it isn't as casual as they pretend but it isn't official either. John already sent the whole cast and crew gifts; he doesn't think buying Jenna something extra will clarify their relationship. 

When he gets back to his apartment he starts a fire and pulls down an old favorite from his book shelf. 

He wonders if it's cold in St. Louis.

* 

He finds a church and goes to Midnight Mass, mostly for nostalgia's sake and because he promised his mother he would. The choir is amazing and when a few of them approach him after the service for an autograph on the church bulletin, he smiles politely and signs.

He's walking back to his place, shoulders hunched and hands shoved into his pockets for warmth, when he feels his phone vibrate. He pulls it out, expecting a text from his mom, or maybe his brother giving him shit for not going to Florida with everyone this year. 

_You pay your Catholic dues for the year?_ the text reads.

It's signed _J_ , and though he knows a hundred J's, this is the one he hasn't been able to stop thinking about.

He braves his fingers in the cold and fumbles with the keys until he's got a reply.

_Lapsed no more. I've got Christ working through my digestive system as we speak._

The doorman of his building opens the door for him and he hurries inside, into the warmth and the glow of the lobby. As he rides the elevator to his floor he thinks about what it would be like to spend the holiday with her, to listen to her laugh, to touch her hand and her face and back in front of their families and friends.

As he unlocks his door he feels his phone vibrate again and he smiles in anticipation. 

It's just his brother, telling him they miss him. He quickly texts back and shuts off his phone so he doesn't have any excuse to wait.

*

John sleeps in the next morning, calls his mom as he goes out for coffee and wishes everyone a Merry Christmas as they pass the phone around. It sounds like everyone is having fun with the Wii's he sent and for a second he wishes he would have gone to Florida after all.

He spends the day watching old movies, orders in Chinese from his favorite place down the block. After the sun goes down he walks around for a bit just to look at the lights. 

When he gets back to his place he starts a fire, heats up the leftovers, and grabs a beer. He's just taken the first pull from the bottle when his phone rings for what might be the tenth time that day. He briefly considers ignoring it because, as it turned out, spending the holiday by himself wasn't the cure for loneliness he'd imagined it to be and every phone call from family or friend he's gotten today has only served to remind him of that fact.

He ends up answering on the last ring before the call gets sent to voice mail and the laughing voice that replies to his greeting makes him grin at the phone and set down the beer.

"For a minute there I thought maybe you'd been struck by lightening after your message last night. Gross, by the way." 

John imagines her smile, the hint of a dimple in her cheek.

"I hear he's a forgiving kind of guy. Plus there's the birthday thing and all, which usually puts people in a good mood so I think I'm safe this time." He ducks his head and smiles when he hears her chuckle softly. 

For a long moment neither of them speaks and John takes a breath, prepares to break the silence. Jenna beats him to it.

"So, I was thinking about. . ." Jenna pauses and John wants to urge her on, hear that she's been thinking about him as much as he's thought about her. But he doesn't and when she goes on, she doesn't finish the thought. "I just wanted to call and wish you a Merry Christmas, John."

He picks at a fray on the pocket of his jeans and nods, even though she can't see him. He's struck by the impulse to stop all of the bullshit, stop hiding what he wants behind excuses of work and her divorce and what people will think.

"Jenna," he begins, and he can hear the sudden intake of her breath like maybe she can hear how serious he is, like maybe she knows what he's going to say and she can't wait to hear it, or maybe doesn't want to hear it at all. The latter possibility stops him cold.

"Merry Christmas to you too," he finishes, closing his eyes and shaking his head at his own cowardice. 

*

He doesn't talk to her again until New Year's Eve.

The dirty things he whispers into her ear as he moves inside her are only a portion of what he really wants to say.

 


End file.
